


Blue Garden

by the_original_n_chan



Series: The Priest's Son and the Demon [2]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Day After, Developing Relationship, Generic Fangirl Continuity, M/M, Tailfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_original_n_chan/pseuds/the_original_n_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after their <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1097269">first time</a>, Rin and Bon have some issues to resolve. Mostly Bon's issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Garden

**Author's Note:**

> See series page for continuity note and disclaimer.

It wasn’t the fact that he’d gotten off with Suguro Ryuuji, one of his few real friends, in a drug-addled frenzy of lust that really sucked, Rin thought.

It was the fact that he _remembered_ it.

After all, if he hadn’t remembered anything, he would have come into class and said hello just like normal, and Suguro might have acted funny but he wouldn’t have had a clue why, and Suguro would have figured that out real fast and just pretended that nothing had happened, and everything would’ve been cool. _But._ Instead the traitor heat of embarrassment had leaped into his face the second he’d seen Suguro sitting at his desk. Suguro had returned his flustered look with a truly epic death glare, then turned pointedly away, crossing his arms on his chest. So it looked as though they might be right back at square one.

God, he hoped not. It had been hard enough waiting for Suguro to tolerate him, and then to become gruffly friendly, and then to get past the revelation of his demon issues and accept him a second time. It would be a pain in the ass to have to fight that fight all over again.

He figured he kind of deserved it, though. Because he didn’t just remember what they had done—he remembered how it had all happened, how he’d run right over Suguro’s complaints and objections like they were nothing. By the end of it, yeah, Suguro had seemed to be into it as much as he was, but did that make up for the fact that he’d, well, pretty much _molested_ Suguro to get there?

The worst part about remembering, though, was that even with the embarrassment and the inevitable awkwardness and the guilty knowledge that he’d really crossed some lines there that he shouldn’t have, those memories set him on fire. (Not literally, thank God.) And he didn’t want to let them go. He wanted _more_. Now that he’d had the merest taste of sex—sex with Suguro, whoa, weird, but Suguro had been at the top of both his Cool Dudes list and his ultra-secret Guys That Make Me Hot in Spite of Myself list, so not really that far out there—the thought that it might be just a one-time freak incident made him want to bang his head against the desk. He had to come right out and admit it to himself—he wanted to do it again, and in particular with Suguro, because it had been _good,_ and he liked Suguro—maybe not _like_ liked (that could’ve been the drugs), just liked, but he wasn’t really sure, and that was something that maybe needed to be worked out at some point. But sheerly on the physical side of things, the way they had moved together, the taste and smell of Suguro’s skin, the aching and throbbing and straining for amazing release....

Okay, maybe the remembering wasn’t that bad after all. Because it had been so good, how could he possibly want to forget?

“Okumura-kun.”

Oh God, it had been so good....

“ _Okumura-kun._ ”

“Uh, yes!” Rin bolted to his feet before it occurred to him to worry about the state of his pants. Luckily nothing had come up, as it were, during his distraction. He stared at their scripture instructor, his mind a total blank. “Er...what?”

“It’s your turn to recite,” she said with resigned weariness. He hesitated, wracking his brain, and she sighed dramatically. “Psalm 93, dear.”

He knew that—he was just trying to remember how it started. “The Lord reigns, He is clothed with magic gear.” There was a _pfft!_ from Kamiki, somewhere behind him, and he gritted his teeth. “The Lord is clothed...,” wait, had he already said that? “The Lord is...he has girdled Himself with strength. Surely the world is established, so that it cannot be moved.” He got through that part in a rush and paused for breath. “Your throne is established from the old days; You are from...” _Edo? Edi? Ebi...._ “Ebisu.” Shit, even he knew that wasn’t right. Kamiki was cackling out loud now. Squaring his shoulders, Rin lifted his chin and recited more loudly.

“The floods have lifted up, O Lord. The floods have lifted up their voice. The floods lift up their waves. The floods lift up....” _What?_ “The floods lift up...their waves.” No, wait, the floods were already done lifting up. “The Lord...the Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, than the mighty waves of the sea.” Homestretch, thank God. “Your testi...testi...,” _testicles, oh God, no,_ “...testi...thingies are very,” _sore?_ Oh God, he was dying here. “Very sure. And hor- holiness adorns your house forever, O Lord.” His face burning, fists clenched at his side, he waited for the axe of fail to fall so that he could drop back into his seat and hide.

The teacher stared at him, her lipsticked mouth pursed. “I suppose I should give you some points for getting that much right,” she mused. “But in reciting verses, Okumura-kun, close is not good enough. The power of the Word lies in precision and exactitude. And to be honest, calling that close would be excessively generous.” The white cat riding her shoulder regarded him disapprovingly, then began grooming one paw. He wondered if that was its way of giving him the finger. “Study the same one for tomorrow. Perhaps it’s best to keep you working on just one psalm until you can recite it perfectly.” As Rin slumped despondently, she added, “And the word is _testimonies,_ young man.”

Defeated, Rin sagged into his seat. It was fucking embarrassing—here they were, esquires, and the others were more or less able to recite whole books of the Bible while he was stuck at the remedial level, still trying to memorize psalms. The whole thing was pathetic and pointless. Just give him something to hit already—that was all he wanted or needed to know about fighting demons.

“Dumbass,” Suguro muttered, barely audible, from the other side of the room. Rin glanced over—Suguro still wasn’t looking his way, but the set of his jaw radiated an all-too-familiar irritation. With a low sigh, Rin bent forward, resting his forehead against the edge of his desk. Even the swish of Shiemi’s short skirt at just about eye level as she stood to begin her own recitation didn’t distract him from his gloom.

Okay, more sex with Suguro was probably right out. (It did count as sex, right? Since he’d come? He thought so.) He’d just have to cope with that. What was more important was getting their friendship back. He’d only just made friends for the first time in his life, and losing that was unbelievably painful. He had no idea what he was going to say to Suguro, but they had to work this out.

Shiemi finished her slightly quavering recitation, received the teacher’s grudging acceptance and reminder to be more forceful, and sat down with apparent relief. Rin lifted his head just enough to steal a look back over his shoulder. Suguro was staring at him, and his heart jumped. Suguro noticed Rin looking back at him; his brows drew down stormily before he jerked his gaze away to glower at the front wall of the classroom.

Yikes. He was really pissed. Rin turned around again. His heart was beating fast; his blood was up like he was ready for a fight. Or something. Bending forward again, he crossed his arms, pressing them against his lap. He didn’t think he was going to embarrass himself, but just in case..... His tail twitched in agitation, thumping against the chair leg. _You shut up too._

The thought of Suguro’s face looking scared and mad, startled and vulnerable. Of kissing the sullenness right off that mouth. Of getting inside the circle of those arms, right up close against that hard body.

Goddamn stupid memories....

But if he hadn’t remembered, and Suguro had decided to pretend nothing was wrong, would something weird always be between them, getting in the way of their friendship, and he wouldn’t even know why?

Was it better to remember or not to remember?

“ _Argh!_ ” He was so confused he couldn’t think straight. Frustrated, he sat bolt upright, scrubbing his hands up into his hair as if by doing so he could force his brain to stop whirling.

“Is there some problem, Okumura-kun?”

“Uh, no, ma’am.” Slouching down in his chair, Rin leaned back wearily, tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling.

Was this class never going to end?

 

 

 

“Oi, Suguro! Wait up!” Rin broke into a light jog to catch up with Suguro, Shima, and Konekomaru. Suguro didn’t halt; instead as Rin caught them up he started walking faster. “We gotta talk for a minute.”

“No, we don’t.” Suguro walked even faster, fists clenched and arms swinging. Rin kept pace.

“Yes, we do!”

“ _I said, we don’t!_ ” Suguro sped up again—now they were race-walking down the tiled hall of the cram school, and Shima had started cracking up behind them. This was retarded.

“ _Quit running away!_ ”

That got Suguro—he stopped dead and whirled on Rin. “I’m not running away! I’m going back to class.”

“Shyeah, right.” Rin leaned in toward Suguro and said, his voice low and deadly, “Is this really a conversation you wanna have there? ’Cause it’s gonna happen one way or another.”

Suguro stared at him for a long moment as Shima and Konekomaru came up to them, then ducked his head in frustration. Konekomaru said tentatively, “Bon...?”

“Shit.” Suguro’s shoulders slumped. “You guys go ahead, okay?” Lifting his head again, he scowled at Rin. “Where?”

“In here.” Rin led him to the mostly unused old storage room. It was where he’d had his accident with the jar, but knowing his brother, Yukio had cleaned up meticulously, so it shouldn’t be a problem. He flipped on the lights, half of which weren’t working, and closed the door behind them. He could almost feel Suguro tense up. Rin turned to face him. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Suguro growled. “You were the one who had something to say.” Awkwardly, Rin looked away from him.

“Um, about that time....”

“It’s nothing.” Surprise drew Rin’s gaze back to Suguro. He had his hands shoved in his pockets; he was staring at the wall of glass jars filled with musty, expired herbs, refusing to meet Rin’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just forget it.”

Rin knew he should feel relief, but instead anger kindled in him, sudden, surprising, and hot. “What d’you mean it doesn’t matter? And I’m not going to lie and pretend that nothing happened between us!”

“There’s no ‘between us’!” Suguro snapped. Regaining control with an effort, he went on, “You were out of your mind on drugs. You weren’t responsible for your actions. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Rin stared at him, lost in contradictory emotions. “That’s bull,” he said at last, his throat tight. “I was high, yeah, but I knew what I was doing. _I knew._ And I told you I’m not going to lie about this.” His pulse hammered; the room seemed claustrophobic suddenly. Too much to break, no room to explode. His voice rose. “What the hell good is it to lie about things if we’re supposed to be friends?”

“This is ridiculous,” Suguro muttered, and he began to turn away. In a flash Rin had closed the distance between them and caught him by the tie, jerking him back around. Suguro stiffened, his eyes widening in shock.

“I wanted ya.” They were close now, barely arm’s length apart, staring into each other’s faces. “And I still want ya.” He couldn’t hide his demonic nature from his friends anymore, and as much as it had sucked at first, things were better this way. He wasn’t going to conceal this truth from Suguro. “That’s how I am. Can y’deal with it?”

Suguro’s breathing seemed unnaturally harsh in the stillness. “Get your hands off me,” he gritted at last.

“I’m not touchin’ you.” The school uniform tie ran between them, a slender bond of connection. It seemed too slight, too fragile. Rin wanted to pull Suguro even closer, to fist his hands in Suguro’s shirt collar and drag him down, taste his lips, his breath. _Careful. Don’t choke him._ “Scared?” Rin’s mouth tensed into a fierce smile. _C’mon, Bon._

“Fuck you!”

“You wanted it too,” Rin shot back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“ _What?!_ ” Suguro’s voice scaled up sharply. He stepped forward, looming over Rin as he glared down. “When the hell did I say I wanted it? In what words? I told you to fucking _stop_!”

“When you told me to move or you’d punch me.” Rin’s smile shifted to a cocky smirk. He had the son of a bitch now. _Admit it—it was good. You liked it by the end._ “If you’d really meant it, you woulda just punched me without warning me. It’s not like you haven’t decked me before.”

Suguro grew still, his expression closing into sudden neutrality. “Ah. I see.”

The right cross took Rin completely by surprise. He stumbled backward, dropping Suguro’s tie, and crashed against the prep counter. Lifting his hand, he pressed the back of it to his aching mouth. He could taste blood, sharp and metallic.

“Do y’get it _now_?” Suguro snarled, rubbing at his knuckles. “I don’t want you near me!”

Rage ignited in Rin, the old, familiar fury. He wanted to lash back, to ease the pain with violence. Not the already fading pain in his lip but the deeper anguish, the rejection, the shame he wanted so badly to deny and couldn’t. _Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. He’s strong, but you could break him._ Rin glared back in helpless misery.

“Just keep your sick feelings to yourself!” Suguro ranted on. “And I don’t want to hear you talking about friendship either, when you can’t even act like a goddamned friend!”

“So that’s it, huh?” Rin drew in a shuddering breath. Fire trembled within him, barely below the surface; he struggled to hold it in check—struggled and failed. Blue flame burst out around him, leaping and roiling, throwing flickering reflections across the jar-lined wall. Suguro recoiled, the fear obvious on his face. “ _Fine!_ ” Rin shouted. “Then I’ll stay away from you!” Shoving himself from the counter, he slammed past Suguro and out the door. He stalked down the empty hallway, fighting to calm himself, desperately willing his flames to go out again. He just managed to shed the last of them as he reached the classroom door.

Opening the door, he marched to his seat and threw himself into it, shoving his hands into his pockets in disgust. He paused, drawn up short as his fingers encountered something. Sitting up a little straighter, he pulled out the hair clip that Suguro had given him and stared at it. After a long moment, he ducked his head, setting his jaw.

 

 

Ryuuji sank into his seat, staring at the hair clip lying in the middle of his desk. Next to him, Konekomaru looked up at him sidelong with a nervous, unhappy expression. Slowly Ryuuji reached out and closed his hand around the clip, his knuckles clenching into a tight fist.

At the front of the class, Rin sprawled low in his chair, demonology book held up before him, his bangs falling into his face.

 

 

 

“ _You._ ” Rin jerked his head up as Suguro stepped into view at the end of the arched passageway that led from the fountain courtyard. He was alone, Shima and Konekomaru nowhere in sight. Standing there, he blocked the exit, and Rin stopped dead in his tracks. Suguro took a couple of steps forward, closing some of the space between them, and held up the hair clip. “What the hell is this?”

“What do you think it is? It’s your clip. I’m giving it back.” Rin looked aside, digging into his ear with one finger, trying to fake insolent lack of interest. He was startled when Suguro hurled the clip at him. It bounced off his chest and fell with a faint clink to the paving stones.

“ _Don’t insult me by returning my gift!_ ”

“Insult you?! You’re the one who doesn’t want anything to do with _me_!” Rin drew a suddenly shaky breath, his defenses crumbling. “Look, you were right, okay? I knew it, and.... That day, I went too far. I shoulda stopped, but I didn’t.” His voice was rising, emotion spilling over. “I’m the goddamned son of Satan, I’ve got no control, I can’t get anything right, I’m a royal fuck-up.” He was yelling now, but he didn’t care. “D’you think I can keep it? Knowing that I’ve got no right to call you a friend anymore?”

His shout echoed from the high, curving ceiling; the sound faded, his panting breaths gradually eased, and there was silence. Suguro just stood there, saying nothing. Rin spun away and put his back roughly against the wall, folding his arms, waiting for Suguro to leave so he could go back to his dorm, because hell if he was going to be the one to run off again.

“You were right, too.”

Surprised, Rin looked up. Suguro’s head was lowered; his hands were knotted into fists at his sides. “Huh?” Rin wondered.

“You were right. When I hit you, I was scared. Not of you, but of myself.” Suguro’s gaze was fixed on the pavement, avoiding Rin’s. “When I set my mind to do something, I _do_ it. I don’t turn aside or make excuses. That’s how _I_ am.” He struggled for a moment, his expression tense and pained, and then the words burst out of him. “How could I have been so weak as to just give in to you like that?”

Rin’s heart leaped with shock at Suguro’s outburst, or maybe sympathy for that confusion, but his head felt oddly calm all of a sudden. “Heh. You always put so much pressure on yourself,” he said. “Your determination’s pretty awesome, yeah, but don’t tell me you’re never allowed to change your mind about something.” His mouth quirked into a weak grin. “You’ve already changed your mind about me a couple of times since we met.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Suguro muttered. “I still think you’re an idiot slacker.” He seemed to relax a little, though.

“’What if I can’t stop myself? What if I do it again?’ That’s what you’re thinking, right?” Suguro started a little, and Rin shrugged. “Well, so what? If you want to, then do it. If you don’t, then don’t. I...it’s not like I’ll be mad or anything.” Regretful, maybe. Well, make that probably. Rin laughed a bit lamely, trying to get past the awkward moment. “And it’s not like I have freaking sex powers that’ll take over your mind or anything.”

“That’s what you think,” Suguro said under his breath. Rin blinked, startled. Suguro walked forward a few steps, a little stiffly, and stopped in front of him. They stared at each other, and Rin could feel the sudden charge in the air, like electricity running between them, like the pull of his flames. His breath caught. “You gonna pick up that clip?” Suguro growled.

“Yeah.” Rin smiled, slow and just a little evil, making no move toward the clip. “You gonna kiss me?” Suguro jerked in alarm, and Rin’s smile turned slightly bitter. “Or is the queer-ass homo thing still a problem for you?”

Suguro turned red. “I-I, uh....”

“S’all right. It took me a while to get my head around it too.” For some reason the insult didn’t upset him that much—far less than being called a demon ever had. “It really bothered me until me and Yukio talked about it—”

“What?! You mean he _knows_?!”

“Huh?” It took him a moment to figure out why Suguro looked about to panic. “Oh—no! Not that. We were talking about me being bi.”

“B-Bi....” Suguro stared at him, then slumped, ducking his head and letting out a huff that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “You are a piece of work.”

Rin couldn’t make heads or tails of that, but it didn’t matter. Suguro straightened and met his gaze once more. His expression grown serious, he reached out and slowly took up Rin’s tie. Little by little he drew it taut, until at last Rin yielded to that pull, leaning away from the wall, tilting his head as Suguro bent to kiss him....

Suguro even kissed serious. Full attention, like the focus he had when reciting verses in battle. Reciting verses wasn’t sexy, but this was. Suguro pressed him back again, one hand on the stones by his shoulder, the other still knotted around his tie—kissed hard, covering him, and Rin liked it, liked the tension of being in Suguro’s shadow, caught between him and the wall, their bodies almost but not quite touching. Rin’s hands came up and curled about Suguro’s shoulders, and Suguro pulled back just enough to mutter, “Don’t rip my shirt again.”

Pain in the ass. Rin let his hands slide down, hooked his fingers in Suguro’s belt loops and tugged him even closer, so that their bodies rocked together as Suguro’s mouth closed onto his once more. Oh yeah—even better, Suguro’s weight and solidity rubbing against him. He hitched his hips up into Suguro’s. Suguro’s mouth parted on his, moved with almost bruising urgency, and he felt the probing touch of what he realized was Suguro’s tongue—oh, ugh, gross, but hot, so shockingly hot it set his thumping heart to pounding even faster. After that first instinctive flinch, he opened to it, swiping back with his own tongue, and that deep kiss went on and on and on. He cupped his hands along Suguro’s jawline, following every movement with his fingers as well as with his mouth, with the rhythm of his body swaying up into Suguro’s. He almost shouted his frustration as Suguro began drawing back—pulled him close again to catch his lips once, twice, before Suguro finally broke away.

Suguro looked dazed. “Hhnn. Not here.”

Why not? Oh, right. “Wanna go to my room?” His voice sounded strange, husky. He swallowed, realized he was probably swallowing some of Suguro’s spit, and wavered between being freaked out and even more turned on. Turned on won.

Suguro shook his head. “I know a place. Closer. Come on.” Suguro stepped away, hesitated, then in one swift motion crouched and scooped up the hair clip. Turning, he ran his hand up Rin’s forehead, sweeping back Rin’s hair, and slid the clip into place. Leaning back, Suguro regarded his work briefly, then smiled his infuriating one-sided smirk.

Infuriating could be sexy too. Rin smiled back, a taut curve of hunger and promise.

_Bring it, Suguro...._

 

 

 

 

Following Suguro across the campus without grabbing him and hauling him into a dark corner was almost as great a torture as training with Shura’s candles. It wasn’t that long, but Rin was cursing mentally well before they reached the narrow stairway that led down next to what he thought was probably a chapel. At the bottom, though, he paused and stared. A walled garden stretched the length of the building. In the center was a reflecting pool that caught the sky and the green clouds of matching ancient willow trees down at the far end of the garden. Nearby stood a stone bench surrounded by a knot-garden of low, trimmed sweet box, offering a perfect view. The garden had an air of  peace and privacy: the chapel wall had only stained glass windows, and those were high up above the level of the garden, while the other walls, though lower, still stood well over head height, and the iron gate between the willows was chained and locked. Late afternoon sunlight spilled over the west wall to dazzle on billowy masses of hydrangeas that lined either side of the pool.

“Wow. Pretty.” Rin wondered if Shiemi would like this place. It had some of the otherworldliness of her garden, though he thought she might prefer more variety in the flowers.

“I come here to practice reciting sometimes, when I don’t want to disturb Shima and Konekomaru,” Suguro explained. Rin was so not caring about reciting. That brief moment of garden appreciation over, he seized Suguro by the arm and dragged him behind the nearest clump of hydrangeas, shed the Koumaken and pulled him down. On their knees in the grass, they kissed again, arms wrapping around each other, clutching wildly. Not enough—still not enough. Rin tumbled them both to the ground, to a startled grunt from Suguro. They lay there, tangled together, Rin’s hands running up to rake through Suguro’s two-colored hair as he kissed and sucked Suguro’s throat, as he pulled himself higher to explore Suguro’s piercings with teeth and tongue. Suguro tensed, his breath escaping in a hiss. His hand cupped the back of Rin’s thigh; Rin obligingly bent his leg, hooking it around Suguro’s, pulling them even closer together, chest pressed to chest now, and groin to groin, heat and swelling hardness growing as they rubbed against each other with increasing urgency. _Still more._ Rin wanted skin. Somehow he loosened the knot of Suguro’s tie, got a button undone on Suguro’s shirt, then another, without ripping anything. His hand slid under the cloth, and his eyes widened.

“Whoa! Pierced there too!” Suguro growled at him, then yelped as Rin’s fingers tugged at the curved barbell set in his nipple. Pressed close as they were, Rin couldn’t quite get at the next button; instead he yanked up the bottom of Suguro’s shirt and shoved his hand in between their bodies, raking it across Suguro’s stomach, feeling the muscles flex as Suguro thrust against him. “Man, you’re pretty ripped!”

“Could we do without...the color commentary?” Suguro panted, and Rin snickered, stroking the ridges of his abs, tracing the waistband of his pants, Suguro’s stomach contracting, shivering, beneath that touch as Suguro’s breath caught. _You like this._ Rin wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to _lick_ him everywhere, taste the salt of his skin, feel him squirm. It would be a lot of licking. Rin pressed his mouth to what he could reach, Suguro’s shoulder where it curved up to his neck, set his teeth in the skin, very, very gently, felt Suguro gasp and shudder. Releasing Suguro, he ran his tongue lightly over that spot, then lifted his head, put his mouth to Suguro’s ear again.

“ _Harder,_ ” he breathed. “Are you a man or aren’t’cha?”

Suguro made a rough sound deep in his throat and rolled them half over, so that Rin was beneath him. _Oh yeah, this,_ so good, heat and weight, the driving rhythm that jarred his whole body now, Suguro grinding in between his legs as he bucked up into that pressure, the muscles of Suguro’s back and shoulders knotting beneath Rin’s roaming hands as he pushed himself up on his arms above Rin, _fucking strong, awesome._ So, _so_ good, and the whole world seemed to narrow down to raw sensation, the friction of cloth against his straining cock, his tail sliding in the crack of his ass with each thrust, the throbbing pulse in his crotch that grew and grew until all he could do was close his eyes and gasp for breath as his body arched of its own accord, trying to get closer, closer, _c’mon, Suguro, c’mon—_

_Ah—_

Like the eruption of his flames but not—no fear, nothing to hold in check, only purest release, this white-hot, searing burst of pleasure as he came, all that built-up tension letting go at once. He closed his eyes, his body shaking as that wave rushed through him, blanking out everything but _yes, yes, yes!_ Almost violent, then gentling, fading at last into a lingering slow burn of contentment. Rin sighed, letting his head fall back against the grass. It took him a second or two to realize that that Suguro was still working.

_Oh. That’s right._ He rolled his hips, meeting Suguro’s thrusts, slid his hands down Suguro’s back to curve around his ass and pull him even closer. Suguro must have been very near—he jerked, trembling, went briefly still. Rin stared up into his face, his eyes closed, the familiar furrow of tension between his brows, his lip caught in his teeth. Abruptly he slumped, then heaved himself to one side, rolling off Rin. They lay on their backs, side by side, staring up at the sky, Suguro breathing in low huffs that gradually slowed toward stillness.

Oh God. He’d done it. Stone-cold sober and the light of day, he’d fucked Suguro. Or had he just gotten fucked? He wasn’t sure how it worked out when nobody penetrated anybody. Maybe it was mutual. The thought should’ve been weird and uncomfortable, but instead it put a warm glow in him, echo of that delicious heat of arousal. He rested his hand on the front of his pants, felt the slight dampness there. Luckily dark pants hid a multitude of sins.

Had it been a sin? If he’d still been living in the monastery, he’d have had to confess. The thought of his father sent a pang through him, as usual. He let himself feel that pain, just for a moment, then set it aside. _Don’t think about death. Don’t think about grief. You’re alive, right now._ He certainly felt alive, every centimeter from his head to his toes tingling, awake. Would he do it again? Oh, _fuck_ , yes. He played it back in his mind, snatches of memory, of pure sensation, his hand splayed across his crotch, slowly kneading. He caught his breath as he felt himself stir again, a distinct tightening, a quiver of reawakening need. His mouth curving into a slow smile, he twisted around, rolling over onto his side to look at Suguro.

 

 

 

 

The hydrangeas seemed to shimmer as Ryuuji gazed at them through slitted eyes, their sun-caught florets nearly the same color as Satan’s flames, the even bluer sky soaring beyond them. His brain had just about come to grips with _What did I do?_ and _Oh God, that felt good,_ but hadn’t quite gotten past the hurdle of _Now what?_ As he lay drifting in that mental void, he was startled when Rin hove into view, dropping down with a thump to lay draped over his chest. “Oof,” Ryuuji grunted. “What?” Rin was smiling in a rather disturbing way as he slid one leg over to straddle Ryuuji, and Ryuuji realized with a jolt that Rin was hard, the solid lump in his pants prodding into Ryuuji’s thigh as he moved. With his pointed ears and fanged grin, his slowly lashing tail and intent stare, Rin looked like a beast crouching over its prey.

“Suguro....”

_Holy shit._ He’d created a monster. Or maybe just woken one up. “What, again? Now?” he growled, suppressing faint alarm. “What the hell. Haven’t you ever heard of a refractory period?”

“Ref-wha?” Rin blinked at him, momentarily confused, then shrugged, apparently deciding that vocabulary was irrelevant to his interests. His gaze shifted—he hooked his fingers into Ryuuji’s half-opened shirt and began undoing the remaining buttons.

“No way,” Ryuuji said firmly. He managed to push himself halfway upright despite Rin lying on him and grabbed for the intrusive hand. “Goddamned sex fiend.”

“Rooster-haired wimp.”

Ryuuji glared. Rin’s tail snaked playfully up his side, ticklish and startling, distracting; Ryuuji let go of Rin’s hand to smack at the tail and it swished away again, out of reach. “Horny pervert freak.”

Rin rocked him back onto his elbows, leaning forward so that they were nearly nose to nose, his smile fierce and feral, challenging. “Tight-assed, limp-dicked teacher’s pet.”

Ryuuji’s eyes narrowed; he was not going to goddamned lose this fight. “ _Cocksucker._ ” Rin started, going slightly pink, and Ryuuji suddenly realized that this was not the right context for that particular insult. He felt himself turning red as well. “U-Uh. N-,” _never mind,_ he was going to say, _didn’t mean that,_ but Rin was looking... _thoughtful_ , and it was easily the most terrifying expression Ryuuji had seen on him yet. Rin wriggled slowly backward; spreading the shirt further open, he bent to tongue Ryuuji’s piercing, his head cocked to watch Ryuuji’s reaction. Ryuuji’s flush intensified. That tongue traveled lower, flicking, trailing, unhurried, as Rin unbuttoned his shirt all the way, as Rin’s fingers slid beneath Ryuuji’s waistband to stroke and curl against the skin. They undid his pants, parted his fly, and drew him out, still sticky from the last go, soft and vulnerable in Rin’s cupped hand. Ryuuji’s stomach tensed as Rin bent lower, hesitated, then ran a searching, exploratory lick along his entire length. Rin lifted his head again and made a face. “Bleah.”

“D-Don’t do it if you’re gonna bitch.” _Oh please, yes, do it, do me like that._ Rin gave a little sniff; he leaned forward once more, and after a momentary hitch to get rid of his tie, which was threatening to get in the way, he began mouthing at Ryuuji’s dick, still a little tentative at first, then with more intensity, licking, grazing, sucking, his fingers questing, stroking constantly wherever his mouth wasn’t. That damn hairclip was coming in handy once again, Ryuuji thought dazedly, and not just for Rin’s sake, but because it gave him a clear view of the long pink sweep of that tongue, of Rin’s heavy-lidded, unfocused gaze as he nuzzled into Ryuuji’s crotch, his lips parted and wet. The sight made Ryuuji twitch; he was hardening fast, swelling in Rin’s grasp. Rin went _hnnn,_ low purr of satisfaction right against the skin, and that vibration almost drove him crazy. He thought he was going to explode on the spot. Gasping, he tried to hold on, to go further, but Rin had both hands on him now, moving, moving, fingers playing with him, surprisingly deft and skillful. He couldn’t—long, purposeful strokes were already sweeping  him toward climax, building and building—Rin caught his gaze, then bent low again, and with luxuriant deliberateness ran his tongue all over the head of Ryuuji’s dick, swirling it around, his hot stare never wavering, as if he was hungry for it, oh God—

“Ngh! I’m gonna—” was all the warning he was able to manage before he came blindingly hard, his whole body spasming with the rush. He flung his head back, shuddering, gulping for breath. What seemed like an eternity of pulsing ecstasy consumed him, consumed everything in its burning, surging flood; he came back to his senses only gradually, almost dizzily, back to his pounding heartbeat, to the lingering tingling ache of pleasure. Back to the weight of Rin slowly settling astride his waist once more.

He opened his eyes. Rin was wiping a pale streak of come from his cheek with the back of one hand, and Ryuuji felt himself flush again. Rin’s stare never left Ryuuji’s face, but there was a blankness to it, his eyes dark and shadowy as night clouds, focused inward on his own need. From the straining tent in his pants, he had to be almost painfully hard. Ryuuji swallowed. Okay. He could do this. Lying back with some trepidation, he reached up as Rin bent toward him, ran his hands down Rin’s sides, over the small of his back. He closed his fingers on Rin’s tail, and Rin stiffened, then sank down, shivering, his forehead pressed to Ryuuji’s chest. Ryuuji began stroking from the root of Rin’s tail outward; he dug into the underside with his fingers, massaging it, right where it met the base of Rin’s spine, and Rin moaned aloud, lifted his ass in the air, his tail arching up over his back until the tip was twitching somewhere over their heads. _Wow._ Continuing to slowly work Rin’s tail, Ryuuji got his hand in between them to open Rin’s pants. He fumbled inside, found Rin throbbing, hot and stiff; he pressed his hand to that heat, sliding over it, rubbing, and Rin jerked, his breath stuttering in his throat. As Ryuuji stroked him further, Rin started rocking between Ryuuji’s hands, short, tense hitches at first, then faster, harder, thrusting back into his encircling fingers, then forward against his palm, riding its movements, thighs clenching around Ryuuji’s hips. He was panting, eyes closed, mouth parted helplessly—absolutely out of his mind, and it was fucking beautiful. Ryuuji let Rin set the rhythm, just gave him resistance, something to push against, and watched him masturbate himself with ever-growing fervency. It made Ryuuji’s breath come short just to see it, to feel Rin bucking and writhing above him. Rin’s hands were knotted in the grass—Ryuuji heard the blades tearing as Rin let out a hoarse little cry, as his hips rolled and then spasmed, lifting, and wet warmth gushed into Ryuuji’s hand. Rin’s expression tightened, his face twisting almost wildly, then suddenly relaxed with a low gasp as he sagged. Ryuuji pulled his hand out of Rin’s pants, and Rin collapsed at once, slithering off him to lie limply by his side, curled up next to him.

Staring at his hand, Ryuuji shook his dripping fingers, then wiped it several times on the grass until it was as clean as he could get it. His heart was still beating fast; he was a little afraid to think about everything that had just happened. Not that a part of him didn’t want to, was replaying what it had felt like, fleeting images of Rin’s face in mindless lust and in orgasm, but it had been so much—too much? He didn’t even know.

How the hell did one go on from something like this?

“Hey,” Rin said suddenly, brightly, with what sounded like suspiciously too much energy for someone who’d just had his brains fucked out twice in fifteen minutes, and Ryuuji stiffened, horrified.

“What?” Oh God, he couldn’t possibly....

Rin propped himself up on one elbow, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. “I wanna call you Bon.”

Ryuuji relaxed again. This at least was familiar territory. “Hmph! Absolutely not.”

“C’mon!” Rin dug his toes into Ryuuji’s ankle, a playful not-quite kick. “And you can call me Rin.”

Ryuuji hesitated, staring straight up into the brilliant summer sky, wondering at his own uncertainty.

_Maybe...somehow...._

Shifting his shoulders in an almost imperceptible shrug, he closed his eyes.

“I’ll think about it.”


End file.
